What's Wrong With Socks?
by Tabithatibi
Summary: Voldemort tries to rob a muggle bank. And fails. Miserably. I like it, though it is complete and utter nonsense. Anyway, I'll leave you to make your own opinions. Please Read and Review! Tabs :D
1. What's Wrong With Socks?

_Hey there! Here' a short little thing for you all. It's complete and utter daftness, but I enjoyed writing it. It sort of just popped into my head._

_Ooh, Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter._

What's Wrong With Socks?

Voldemort checked his watch. Looking at the shiny timepiece, he couldn't help but feel sad. No one ever expected Voldemort to be interested in normal things like watches. It was just so unfair! When he'd asked for woolly socks for Christmas (Dumbledore, was right, you just couldn't have enough socks) everyone (including Father Christmas) had thought that he was joking and had bought him boring, poorly written books on the Dark Arts, which he really couldn't be bothered to read. He knew it all anyway. So he always hid his watch from the Death Eaters. He knew they wouldn't appreciate it. But he shouldn't be worrying about that now. He had a bank to hold up.

'Five, four, three, two…one,' muttered Voldemort under his breath, and leapt out of his hiding place and into the pristine muggle bank. He always found muggles were more fun to steal from than wizards. 'Stick 'em up, muggles!' yelled Voldemort, leaping on to a desk covered in paperwork, and promptly slipping on some loose sheets of paper, and toppling off the desk with a shriek, his new gun flying across the room.

Voldemort cursed, getting to his feet with much difficulty, as he had one leg trapped in a dustbin. Hopping around the room with his foot in the bin, he tried to regain his authority, while the muggles looked at each other, with doubtful looks on their faces. They quite clearly said, ' What a pathetic weirdo,' and Voldemort quite distinctly heard one of them say, 'Er… you want to call the cops, or shall I?' in a not remotely frightened tone. This was too much for Volders.

'Right!' he yelled, drawing his wand from his robe pocket with immense speed, 'I'm going to…to, uh…' but Voldemort never got to finish, because the muggles had all burst into laughter at the sight of his wand. Voldemort was now very angry. He attempted to spin around in order to find another desk to stand on, but fell flat on his face due to the dustbin that was wedged on his foot. Voldemort was rather red in the face by now (NOT a usual thing for Voldemort) and turned even redder when two policemen hauled him to his feet and dragged him off to the police station.

***

The next morning, Voldemort was on his mobile phone, urgently calling Snape.

'Hello? Oh, hi Snape…Yeah…Yes I know…Listen, Snape, would you, uh, mind, um, er…'

'You want me to bail you out again don't you?' said Snape wearily.

'If you would.'

'What was it this time?'

'I, um, got caught trying to rob a muggle bank…' muttered Voldemort shame-facedly, 'So, would you mind…? Snape? Snape, are you there? Hello? Snape?'

But Snape had collapsed, giggling helplessly on the floor.

An hour or so later, Snape and Voldemort (Snape having bailed Voldemort out by now), were walking calmly through the park.

'Voldy?' asked Snape suddenly.

'Hmm?' said Voldemort, twitching slightly at the use of that stupid nick-name.

'Why don't you just apparate away whenever you get caught?'

Voldemort mentally slapped himself. He'd never thought of that.

_Yep. There we are. Complete rubbish, eh? But I liked it. :)_

_Tabs :D_


	2. Formidable Old Women

_Hello! Here's chapter two; maybe not as good as the first chapter, but don't worry, I have good stuff planned!_

* * *

Formidable Old Women

Voldemort pushed his trolley down the bread isle, picking up some French bread as he went. He checked his list again. He only had to pick up some doughnuts, and he was done.

After he had collected his chosen doughnuts, Voldemort started towards the door, glancing surreptitiously around. It wouldn't do to be caught now. He was almost out of the door when –

'Excuse me, sir. Have you paid yet?'

Voldemort winced and and turned around to face the doorman, debating what to say. If he said no, he would have to go and pay, and he had no spare change (he had lost it all in a bet with Snape). Anyway, even if he did have any money, it would do him no good here – this was a muggle supermarket, and he only ever used wizard's money. Besides, he wanted to steal, not pay for things.

'Yes,' he replied curtly, but the man narrowed his eyes and shifted about, looking for all the world as if he wanted to arrest Voldemort there and then.

'Would you mind showing me your receipt please, sir?' he asked in a bored tone of voice.

'My...reseet? What's a reseet?' asked Voldemort nervously.

The doorman clicked his tongue impatiently, 'No games please, sir. Just show me your receipt and you can go.'

'I – er, of course!' cried Voldemort, and rummaged through his pockets to produce anything that might possibly be a 'reseet', whatever that was. Finally, his fingers alighted on something that he had been given when he entered the supermarket.

'Here it is,' he said proudly, brandishing the small piece of shiny paper. Slowly the doorman took it from Voldemort's hand, and gazed down at the piece of paper.

'Sir,' he said, 'this is a voucher for twenty percent off any tissues you happen to buy.'

'Is it?' said Voldemort feebly, 'I thought...oh.'

'You haven't paid, have you?'

'I, er, well...no,' mumbled Voldemort, trying not to quail under the man's stern gaze.

The doorman seized one of Voldemort's wrists, but was stopped from attaching any handcuffs by Voldemort's stick of French bread, which had collided with the side of his head. The man reeled and released Voldemort, more out of surprise than anything else.

It took the doorman a moment to focus on Voldemort, but when he did, his eyes widened in surprise. Voldemort was standing facing him, looking just like someone out of a cowboy film in the middle of a showdown, apart from one salient fact. Instead of a gun, Voldemort carried his loaf of French bread (now slightly battered and with a bent end). Instinctively, the doorman grabbed whatever was nearest to him, which happened to be a watermelon.

As various astonished muggles looked on, Voldemort spun the loaf of bread impressively, then leaped on to his trolley in an attempt to attack the doorman. However, he had overestimated how much weight his trolley could take, and the groaning structure swayed, teetered on its spindly wheels, then crashed to the ground, sending Voldemort spinning over the handlebars, and thudding heavily into the doorman's chest. Needless to say, the doorman was knocked to the ground, and the watermelon spun out of his hands, smashing on to the floor a little way away.

'See ya, sucker!' Voldemort scrambled off the bedraggled man, and raced away down the cake isle, before leaping into a new, sturdier looking trolley, and propelling himself along with his French bread loaf. It took him several minutes to realize that he wasn't moving anywhere. He twisted around to see a formidable looking woman standing behind him. She had grey hair dragged back into a bun and startling blue eyes, accompanied by an aquiline nose and arching eyebrows. Voldemort took one look at the contents of his trolley and instantly realised that it must have been hers. Voldemort screwed up his pale face and waited for the explosion. Instead, he got a whack around the head with the woman's handbag. Bright gold stars gleamed and drifted in front of his eyes before he got another solid hit to the head, and his vision blurred and faded.

***

Voldemort woke up in yet another muggle jail with a splitting headache and a rather bruised ego. He put a hand to his head, trying to remember what Snape had told him to do if he ever got put in jail again, but all he could think of was how embarrassment it was that he had been beaten by an old muggle woman. _He_, the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard _ever_, had been beaten by an old muggle woman with an inordinately heavy handbag. It was just so unfair!

So in the end, Voldemort had no choice but to call Snape, 'Come on, come on...Oh, hi Snape!...Yeah...Oh, I know!...Yeah, I mean _please_!...No. No, I never miss one of his films...Yes, she's good too...Hmm? Oh, yes. Yeah, just so _clingy_!..You what? Why did I call?...Well, it's like this, Snape...'

Snape listened patiently while Voldemort told a rather long-winded version of his adventures, emphasizing that old women really are very dangerous, and asking whether it was normal for handbags to be quite that heavy? Snape thought, between snickers, that Voldemort might have a bit of an obsession with old muggle ladies.

***

'So, why didn't you disapparate?' asked Snape curiously as they sauntered towards Snape's house, each licking ice-creams, which Voldemort had insisted they buy (not that Snape was loath to the idea).

'Flip! I forgot!' exclaimed Voldemort ruefully. Next time he really would have to remember...

* * *

_There we go! Next up...Something to do with an airport. I'm not giving much away, though. _

_Tabs :D  
_


	3. BOMB!

_Hi! I'm really sorry that this is so late - you can kill me now if you wish. ;)_

* * *

BOMB!

Voldemort had never been a very fast runner. At Hogwarts he had always come last in races, so he had always pretended to have some sort of injury when the others wanted to race. He wasn't any better now. As he bobbed along the ground, he was aware that people were turning to stare at him. To be honest he couldn't blame them; to them he was a mass of black material, rucksacks, plastic bags and snakes, whirling towards the queue to check hand luggage.

Voldemort was sorely disappointed with his arrival. Crashing head-first into a desk where a startled looking woman sat was far from dignified.

'Er, hello,' he said, trying in vain to regain his composure. The woman blinked at him, a shocked look plastered all over her face. Frantically, Voldemort searched his mind for something muggles said when they got into a sticky situation. Finally, he came up with something he had heard when shopping in London.

'Where have you been all my life?' he asked earnestly, and the woman's eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

'Er...Did it hurt when you fell from...erm...a tree?' the woman looked at him coldly, 'No! No, not a tree – I meant Heaven! Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?' Voldemort got the feeling that this wasn't going well. Finally, he decided to use his last muggle phrase.

'Are you tired? You've been running through my mind all night,' said Voldemort hopefully, while privately thinking she should have used a broomstick.

The woman was now shooting him daggers, and after a moment of silence, she said frostily, 'Did you want your luggage checked or not?'

'Oh! Oh, yes please!' cried Voldemort, unceremoniously stuffing Nagini into his rucksack, and passing it to the woman. He smuggled all his plastic bags under his robes, hoping she wouldn't notice. For the moment, he seemed safe.

His rucksack passed through something that looked like a black box, and the woman gave an audible gasp. With fumbling fingers, she unzipped his bag, and removed first Nagini, and then a large black sphere, with the word 'Bomb' printed across it. For a moment the woman stared at the snake, then the bomb, then back up and Voldemort.

'You...this..._bomb_,' said the woman, quite astonished.

'Yes that is my bomb, thank you very much,' said Voldemort, prising it out of her grasp and clutching it to him as if it were a newborn baby, 'and I'll thank you not to touch my personal belongings. I've got big plans for this 'ickle bomb here. We're going to blow up the aeroplane together...Oops!' Voldemort's eye widened as he realised he had just given his master plan away. This needed quick thinking.

'Here, Nagini, catch!' yelled Voldemort, tossing the bomb towards his snake, who ducked out of the way, making no attempt to catch it. The bomb thudded to the floor, but surprisingly it didn't explode. The woman made a lunge for Voldemort, but he dived out of the way, drawing his wand as he did so.

'Accio Nagini!' he cried from where he stood a few feet away. The giant snake came zoming towards him, and hit him hard in the face, causing him to topple over on to the ground.

As Voldemort struggled to get up while he was smothered in snake, the woman was calling the airport security guards. By the time Voldemort had got to his feet, he was surrounded. In one last, desperate bid for freedom he raised his wand and yelled, ' Bombarda!' unfortunately, he was holding his wand the wrong way round, and it shot green and silver sparks from his wand. Some of them landed near the bomb, and the fuse was lit. Everyone waited, frozen, seemingly unable to move as the fuse hissed and crackled. Voldemort tensed as the fuse reached the bomb, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come...The hissing spluttered to a stop, and there was a quiet pop. Everyone stared at the bomb. Then Voldemort let out a wail.

'But he promised it was a good quality bomb!'

***

Voldemort paced his cell, fuming to himself. He couldn't believe he had failed so spectacularly. It was a disgrace. And he had forgotten what Snape had said he should do if he ever got put in jail again. Sighing, Voldemort took out his phone, and dialled Snape's number.

'Hey there, Snape! How's it going?...Oh dear...I hope it isn't infectious...Oh, you've put him in quarantine, that's OK then...Yeah, look, Snape old pal, do you think you could, ah...'

Snape gave a sigh. Why on earth had he ended up as fake right-hand man to the most pathetic, blundering Dark Lord in the entire history of pathetic, blundering Dark Lords? Potter was going to find killing him sooo easy.

***

'So, remind me again,' said Snape, munching on his salt and vinegar crisps, 'why didn't you apparate out this time?'

'Of course! That's it! I...Well...I forgot again...'

Voldemort was now mentally brawling with himself. He could be so _stupid_.

* * *

_Did you like it? I hope so. Anyway, next up, Volders goes to...Big Ben. Watch out for the next chapter to find out what happens there! Crikey, I sound like an advertisement._

_Tabs :D_


	4. VolderWHAT?

_Hallo, Hallo, Hallo! It's been yonks, but I'm back and here's the next chapter! :)_

* * *

Volder_what?_

Voldemort was quite surprised when he saw Big Ben. Obviously, he hadn't thought it would be called 'Big Ben' for nothing, but he hadn't expected it to be _quite _that big. He was sure he remembered it being...well, _smaller_.

'Oh, well.' he thought, 'the bigger the better, to be honest.'

Voldemort glanced furtively around before walking to the foot of Big Ben and beginning to scale the momentous clock. For a while, everything seemed to be going fine; no one appeared to have noticed him, and he was making good progress. But then it happened. Voldemort flushed a bright red when he realised. It was just not the sort of thing that should happen to a Dark Lord. It shouldn't happen to _anyone, _let alone him, but somehow, it was the sort of thing that just _would _happen to Voldemort.

Dark Lords should _not_ suddenly find themselves desperate to go to the loo when they are climbing Big Ben.

Voldemort squirmed and looked down, immediately wishing he hadn't. Somehow, Voldemort, who had perfected the art of flying without a broom, felt decidedly queasy when he saw the tiny Londoners swarming around below him...Wait! He could fly! Voldemort beamed proudly to himself. He knew those self-help classes would help.

With supreme grace, Voldemort launched himself off Big Ben, waiting for the familiar soaring sensation that always came when he flew beautifully through the air. Instead, he felt a gut-wrenching sensation as he plummeted clumsily through the air. Voldemort suddenly realised that he had forgotten the spell that enable him to fly...now what was it? Suddenly, he had a flash of inspiration. He could remember Snape mentioning some muggle story, in which characters had to say, 'I do believe in fairies,' for something special to happen. He wasn't quite sure what but he thought he'd give it a try.

'I do believe in fairies!' bellowed Voldemort to the sky. Nothing heppened.

_Oh well. I guess this is it..._

'MUMMYYYYYYYYYYY!'

And suddenly, Voldemort was flying. Then he remembered; that had been his spell, all you had to do was say 'Mummy'...

And so it was that at half-past six on the seventh of April, 1996, London looked up to find a bald, robed figure painting something across the face of Big Ben, his legs strangely crossed as though he desperately needed to go to the loo...

It was only when he got down that Voldemort realised his mistake, 'OH MY GOD!' he yelled as the police closed in on him, 'OH MY GOD!'

'Hi Snape! Wussup?...No way...I'll kill him...Oh ma Gawd!...Yup? Oh, yeah...well, y'see, I'm in a bit of a state...'

'So why couldn't you apparate this time?' asked Snape wearily.

'I...' Voldemort blushed, 'I needed the loo, Sevy! I couldn't apparate like that!'

Snape groaned and rolled his eyes.

'Anyway, you said something went wrong with your little...escapade. What did you do?'

'Well...Oh, it was nothing much,' said Voldemort, waving his hand casually. He would never, ever, ever reveal to Snape that Big Ben now bore the legend, 'VOLDERSNORT RULEZZZZZZ.'

* * *

_Did you like it? Wasn't my best, I feel, but it was OK. :)_

_Tabs :D  
_


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